E78 
.06 M8 




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SOUVENIR ALBUM OF NOTED 
INDIAN PHOTOGRAPHS 




By MAJOR LEE MOORHOUSE 

PENDLETON, OREGON 



COPYRIGHTED 1905 
By Lee Moorhouse 

'rrylhins in ihii book piolrclrd by Copyright 



PRICE, (by mail postpaid) $1.00 



"lBIWRYolCONl.Hl.Ts 

JAN 3 1906 

CowllfM I?"., 
LI**.- 



An Indian tepee in //i/; wilderness, 
The lonely outpost of a dying race 
Thai once were strong and conauerors of men : 

Perhaps some sachem- faring weshrnnl erer. 
His tribe dispersed, his gaudy hraves all gone, 
Hath reared Ids nomad home in this far place. 
Remote, from striving men and the fierce world 
Here museth he upon the day's that were 
Before an alien people drove him forth 
And all his tribe to wander and to die ; 
Here museth he upon the days that were 
That moveth ever toward the western sea. 
Like his own driven people — there to cea$G. 
Perhaps some Indian maiden in fin's place 
Dreameth the blushing dreams of maidenhood, 
Hopeful as youth, n<d thinking of the past. 

— Eustace Ciillinan. 



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The Indian's Reverie. 



Darkly and moodily by the wild water. 

Tossing their mists at hlg feel on the shore, 
Dreams the lone son of the war chieftain'." 
daughter, 

Dreams of the glory of tribesmen of yore! 
Vanished the lodges that decked the green 
mountain, 

Silent the song from the tepee and plain, 
Cometh no warriors to drink from the fountain. 
Cometh no shout of the huntsman again! 



Yet, as he lingers In silence and listens, 

There, where the Cascades make merry all 
day: 

Watches and waits where the tinted mist 
glistens, 

He hears the wild shouts of the children at 
play: 

Rising before him the dim, clustered legions, 
Spreading In glory upon the broad place 

Teeming with warriors the desolate regions.- - 
Ah, In his dream he beholds the old rate! 



Thirsting for vengeance tin- tierce hosts as- 
sembler, 

Wildly they're chanting the battle-mad 
hymn; 

Ah, hut the war trails beneath the hoofs trem- 
bles, 

They gather like clouds on the horizon's- rlin' 
Far In the distance the tepees are guarded; 

War steeds nre tethered mid signal fires 
bright- 
Down the dim trails like an eagle from heaven, 

Sweeps the wild horde on the fneinan at 

night. 



Then the closed eyes of the Dreamier are 
opened — 

Only the music and mist of the stream 

Only the moiint-ihiH forbidding mid lonely, 

Only the flush of, a heart-breaking dremn. 
Singing so blithely the Tumwater Whispers-— 
"I am the voice mid the spirit of yore! 

Here lei the redman in reverie linger, 

Dream mid drink deeply my song, evermore!" 

— Tlert Huffman. 




Tumwater Falls on the Columbia River. 



The Famous 



Cayuse Twins 



It was by a stroke of Rood luck that Major 
Moorhouse obtained these pictures. He had 
secured consent from the mother, Hlm-ye-an- 
hl-hl, to photograph the children. She had 
prepared the papooses for the event, and the 
artist had set his camera. 

According to ihe custom, he had provided 
iin extra plate holder, and. when the twins 
began to cry vigorously, after one exposure 



had been made, he nuleltly placed the extra 
plate In the camera and "snnpped" them cry- 
ing. 

Peculiar Interest attaches to these twins, 
from the fact that they are the second pair 
ever born on Ihe Umatilla reservation, and the 
only pair now alive. Their being alive, too, 
many assert, Is contrary to the dictates of 
Indian superstition, for It li commonly D6- 

I loved thai Indians never permit twins to live. 



It is their belief thnt twins are signs of the 
displeasure of the Great Spirit, hence they are 
usually killed as soon as born. Recently, on 
another reservation, incidents have occurred 
tending to establish the truth of the assertion 
that Indians have a superstitious dread of 
twins. 

The names of these famous Cayuse twins aro 
Tnx-e-lox and A-lom-pum, and they are great 



grand uteres of Chief Joseph, of Nest IVrre war 
fame. 

The subjerts of thin sketch. Tox-e-lox and 
A-loin-pum. twin girl papooses, were horn on 
1 f i) vv -r i in -c in- (M. Kiiyi in'i-lt, near !'>>iidlcton 

i tregon. McKay creek flown through the 
southern boundary or the Umatilla reservation. 
The parents' name* are Ha-hots-mox-mox 
(Yellow Grizzly near) and Hlm-ye-an-hl-hl 
(White Pawn). 



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The Cuyusc Twins. 



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Wa-lu-lah 



Ere the pale-face saw the Westland in its grandeur 
by the sea, 

Lived a dusky Indian princess, fair as fairest flower 
to see! 

By Columbia's thundering Cascades, o'er the beaute- 
ous upland plain. 

Wandered lone the fair Wah-lu-lah. chant ivy e'er 
some wild refrain-. 

husky suitors thronged about her, pleaded for Wah- 
lu-lah' 8 hand, 

But she wept her absent lover — pointed to yon in-sl 
em strand! 

By Columbia's murmuriny Cascades, long and lone 

her tireless quest. 
Now she sleeps, but still awaits him with her fare 

toward the West! 
Drifting sands above her mingle, happy homes be 

dvrk her plain, 
Hal her spirit sings and murmurs in Cotumbitt's ivild 

refrain. 

— Bert Huffman. 




WaUu-lah. 



Chief Joseph the Younger. 



Chitf Joseph the Younger, was one of the 
greatest Indians nf the Pacific Coast, and well 
merits a place In history. He was hereditary 
chief of the Nez Perce Indians and was born at 
the mouth of the Imnnha river In what Is now 
Wallowa county, Oregon, In June, 1837. and 
died at his lonely place of exile on the Col- 
vllle reservation. In Northern Washington, on 
September 21. 1904, at the age of 67. 

The most remarkahle period in the history 
of Joseph's life was his conduct of the Nez 
Perce war In 1S77. With a band of warriors, 
women and children, he held at bay and suc- 
ifssf'jlly evaded for three months the United 
State troops sent against him under Cleneral 
Howard, and was only captured at last at 
Hear Paw Mountain, in Northern Montana, by 
the intervention of Colonel Nelson A. Miles, 
with a strong force of fresh troops fmm Fort 
Keogh. Montana. 

The retreat and running fight of Joseph's 
band of warriors In this war was the most 
remarkable In the history of Indian warfare. 
He was held n prisoner of war from the time of 



bis capture In 1877. until bin death, having 
spent nine years In the Indian Territory. He 
was never allowed to lOOll upon the Wallowa 
valley for which he fought the Nez Perce war. 
Joseph, ami with his brother, OMout, Inherited 
Joseph, ami with his brother, Ollcut, Inherited 
the name and power of his father. Obi Joseph 
Called the two sons to his death bed and re- 
quested them to hold forever the boautlfltl 
Wallowa valley. In Oregon, and It was In de- 
fense Of this valley and protest against Its 
.settlement by the whites thai the famous Nez 

Peroi war wae fought. 

Joseph was n wise and Just Indian and was 
as resourceful In council as In war, and the Mia 
burning desire of his life was to look upon the 
valley of bis youth which his father had left 
him as a heritage and for the defense of which 

.lnsepb t lii- Younger became n prisoner and an 
exile from his people Hi- died on the Col- 
vllle reservation^ surrounded by a small hand 
of hfs intimate- friends who never deserted 
him. A splcmliil monument erected by the 
state of Washington now marks his grave 



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Chief Joseph of Nez 'Pcfces, 



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The Lone Tepee 



How cold and bleak the barren wastes appear; 
No singing birds, no beauteous flowers to greet 
The dying year with clouds of fragrance sweet. 
No fresh surprise, no kindling, keen delight — 
Only the weight of fast descending night. 
Only an awe, almost akin to fear. 
Afar the sun and far the gloomy shy. 
And silence, save for whispers, all around; 
No graceful trees, no brooks go laughing by. 
No signs of life; no merry, joy fid sound. 
Void and deserted, 'gainst the sombre sky. 
The lonely tepee of a brave appears; 
We pass in silence with a whispered sigh, 
And offer all we have — our tears! 

— Momvs. Jr. 



r 




^Uhe Lone 'TTepce. 




"Che Lone c Ccpee. 



Lament of the Umatilla. 



r. 

Spirit of the Yesterday 

Hovers near and croons; 
&ring$ my heart the hunting froUndd 

Of the long-lost Junes! 
Sings of years forgotten, 

Chants of races dead — * 
Weep, iny wondering baby. 

For the good moons fledt 

It. 

By the silvery river 

All your race hns died — ■ 
Sleep and dream my baby, 

By its lisping tide! 
Come? no more the huntsman 

From the glorious chase — ■ 
O'er yon templed mountains 

Swarms the paler face! 



nt 

Hark! I hear a whisper 
Calling from the past! 

Hem- tile warrior's frenzied cry 
On the tempest east! 

Hush, my heart; and listen! 

Calling, calling ttljll 
\b. 'Hn bUt tht mmmlng Wjnd 

n'er the silent hill' 



IV. 

Hark! the hurried hoofbents 

Of the warrior band! 
Ah, my heart betrays me 

In this empty land! 
Sleep and dream, my baby, 

By the tepee fire! 
Nothing for thy kindling hope— • 

Nothing to desire! 



V. 

Broken, let thy young heart ache! 

Crushed, thy Spirit brood! 
What to thee the white man's ways'/ 

Worse than solitude! 
Ry a dying watch fire. 

Crooning in the night — • 
Let the vanquished tribesmen 

Pass from human sight. 

Bi . i Huffman. 



SACAJAWEA. 



The following popm, written by Beit Huff- 
man, editor of the East Oregonlan, of Pendle- 
ton, Oregon, and dedicated to the Shoshone 
Indian girl who guided Lewis and Clark across 
the Rocky Mountains, was first published In 
the East Oregonfan In May. 1904, and since 
that time has been published In all the leading 



pupers In the East and Northwest, besides 
having been recited over 200 times In women's 
club meetings and Sacnjawea Monument As- 
sociation entertainments. It was recited by 
Mrs. Ceorge H. Pettlnger at the unveiling of 
the Sacnjawea monument at the Lewis and 
Clark Fair. Portland. Ore., on July fl. 1BQB: 



Behind them toward the rising sun 

The traversed wildernesses lay — 
A bout them gathered — one by one 

The baffling mysteries of their way! 
To Westward, yonder, peak on peak 

The glistening ranges roBe and fell, — . 
Ah. but among thai hundred paths 

Which led aright? Could any tell? 



Brave Lewis and Immortal Clark! 

Bold spirits of that best crusade. 
You gave the walling world the Bpark 

That thronged the empire-paths you made! 
But stun ding on that snowy height, 

Where Westward yon wild rivers whirl, 
The guide who led your hosts aright 

Wn? that barefoot Shoshone girl! 



0 



You halted by those dim arcades — 

You faltered by those, baffling peaks — 

You doubted In those pathless glades, 
But ever, ever true she speaks! 

Where lay the perilous snows of Spring. 

Where streams their westward course for- 
sook, 

The wildest mountain haunts to her 
Were as an open picture-book! 

Where'er you turned In wonderment 

In that wild empire, unsurveyed. 
Unerring still, she pointed West — * 

Unfailing, all your pathways laid! 
She nodded towards the setting sun — 

She raised a finger toward the sea — 
The closed pates opened, one by one, 

And showed th* path of Destiny! 



The wreath or Triumph give to her; 

She led the conquering Captains West; 
She charted first the trails that led 

The hosts across yon mountain crest! 
Barefoot, she tolled the forest paths, 

Where now the course of Empire speed*, 
Can you forget, loved Western land, 

The glory of her deathless de*»ds? 



In yonder city, glory-crowned. 

Where art will vie with art to keep 
The memories of those heroes green — 

The flush of conscious pride should leap 
To «»ee Mer fnlr memorial stand 

Among the honored names that be — 
Her face toward the sunset still. — 

Her fl n ge r 1 1 ft e d toward the so a '. 



Reside vou on Fame'B pedestal. 

Be hers the i ■ fate to stand — 

Rronzed. barefoot, yet a patron saint, 

The keye of empire in her hand' 
The mountain gutes that closed to you 

Swung open, as she led the way. — 
So let her lead that hero host 

When comes their glad memorial day! 



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Umatilla Resewalion. July 4lh., 1905. 



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Peo, Chief of the Umatilla Indians. 



Peo. t-hief of the Umatilla Indians, was born 
cm the banks of the Umatilla river a few miles 
east of the city of Pendleton, Oregon, In 1848, 
and is at present (November, 1906) confined 
in the government asylum at Canton, Sout'i 
Dakota, helng addicted to strong drink In an 
excessive degree, 

Peo was long a powerful and influential 
Indian, and it was to his persistent and untir- 
ing efforts that the Umatillas were persuaded 
to be allotted on their lands and begin a civil- 
ized life. Peo made several trips to Washing- 
ton, D. C-, in this martter and was highly re- 
spected by both whites and Indians. 

He became chief of the Umatillas on the 
death of We-nap-snoots, In 1 876, and was a 
brave and courageous chieftain. He won dis- 



tinction as chief of scouts under Lleutennnl 
Farrow, of the United Stages army. In the 
"Sheepeater" campaign In the Salmon rlvor 
mountains In 1878. 

About 4he year 181*0 he begun drinking to 
excess and from that time his power has de- 
clined until within the past few yenrs he 
has become a wreck, remaining Intoxicated 
for days art a time and losing all tin- respect 
and confidence of his people, he was at last 
taken to the government asylum at Canton, 
where he Is now confined. 

HIb life was spent on the Umatilla reserva- 
tion in the vicinity of Pendleton, and he has 
taken part In all the Important wents In which 
hiB tribe has ro prominently figured In North- 
west history. 



Bridge of the Gods. 



Indian legend is borne out by the appearan- 
ces of nature, In its claims that at one time a 
huge natural bridge spanned the Columbia 
river at the Cascades. 

All the Columbia river and allied tribes re- 
peat the legend of the "Bridge" and all agree 
on the one essential point — that at one time 
in the long ago the mighty stream rolled under 
a mountain of stone through caverns and 
caves and that in time the bridge fell In, dam- 
ming the stream for miles back and causing 
the present obstacles in the river known as 
the CascadeSL 

Frederick Balcli in his fascinating western 
story. "The Bridge of the Gods," relates Inci- 
dents of old Indians repeating the legend In 
such an authoritative manner as to preclude 
ail possibility of the story being a pure myth. 

"Everywhere along the Columbia river," says 
Balch, "the Indians tell of the great bridge 
that once spanned the river; that the Great 
Spirit shook the earth and the bridge crashed 
down in the river, forming the present obstruc- 
tion at the Cascades, All the various tribes 
tell the same story, varying of course with 
their various views and understanding, hut all 



emphatically corroborating the fact that It watt 
In existence. 

" 'My father talk one time,* said an old 
Klickitat to a pioneer at White Salmon, Wash- 
ington, 'long ago llddle boy him In canoe with 
mother, paddle under bridge, look up see the 
roof all over. Onrk so we could no see the sun, 
but we hurry quirk and get out. Llddle boy 
no forget how big bridge took;.'" 

So legend Ib not untrue to nature here. There 
Is every evidence that once a magnificent 
natural bridge renehod across the majestic 
river from shore to shore and that like a softly 
gilding ghost the river stole undor the gloomy 
arches and frowning walls of that splendid ar- 
chitecture of the Maker's own hand. 

How long ago, or what caused the destruc- 
tion of the bridge is not known. Not even 
the slightest trace of history can be found to 
Indicate when It was destroyed or by whnt 
sudden convulsion of the earth the massive 
structure tumbled Into fragments. 

The remaining obstructions In the river at 
the Cascades are tokens of Its existence, but 
further thnn this, history, romance, lcgnnd 
nor tradition cannot penetrate. 



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The Song of the Bow 



T n the Master of all Ike moods' I came 

Where a forest monarch stood. 
"0, give me," I cried, "for a warrior's fame 

A bow of the sacred wood; 
Of the sacred cedar that lifts and sings 
On the high reared cliff where the eagle wings." 

Then the God of the Forest answered me; 

"0. son of a prophet's line, 
Not only a bow from the sacred tree. 

But the son/} of if, too, be thine. 
The voice, of the cedar thy bow shall own 
To sing all songs thai the air hath known," 



I elimhed to the cliff where the eagles nest 

And clave at the cedar's hide: 
I ripped me a rib from its bleeding breast 

And bore it. atray in pride: 
t hewed H and shaped it from noon till noon, 

And if shorn in my eye like a new-horn moon. 

And now if f rest in the purple light 
When the Autumn day is done, 

Or follow the panther i//< mountain height. 
Or steal, where the wild deer run, 

Or fly with my steed, or plunge in the sea, 

My how hath era a voice to me. 



My hair sings ever in sun and rain, 

As soft as the river's flow, 
To tell of the spirits of wood on/I plain 

That only the soul may know. 
Till my hands on the stars of the sky take hold 
And all of the world to my heart I fold. 

— Charles Eugene Banks. 



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FAIR OREGON 



/ know not whence thy mystery came, 
Nor whence the magic of thy name. 
Thou haunted land of whispering pine, 
Whose heart heats aasirer unto mine! 
So near to thee my spirit dwrlls. 
Its every mood mine own foretells; 
Thy very shadows have the art 
Of leaving imprint on my heart, 
And where thy myriad minstrels sing 
There doth my answering anthem ring! 
Thou sainted land where sleep the hrave 
Crowned and embraced by cloud and ware. 
For thee I would all perils meet, 
For thee the wildest deserts greet, 
Or breast yon sea where hearts grow faint, 
Or barefoot, thread without complaint, 
The furthers!, borders 'neo/h the (Ml)" 
If but for thee it needs be done! 

— Bert Huffman. 



The Medicine Man 



Alone he stands in primal solitude, 

In grace a child, in majesty a king. 
Afar his people trait nor dorr intrude 

Where he invites the spirits counseling. 
Long days of fasting in the solemn wood; 

Long nights of gazing on the tranguil stars. 
Have purified the passion* in his hlood 

And made a Moses of a son of Ufars. 
An instrument of drier fen thousand sfiings 

To Nature's ryfhm delicately attuned. 
Tie frills res/ionsire to flu noiseless wings 

Of messengers with whom he has communed. 
Then, suddenly a siditli- essence flows 
Through all his heinq. and he all thinqs knows. 

— Charles Eugene Hanks. 



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Pe-tow-ya, a Cayuse Patriarch. 



Pe-tow-ya, a Cayuse squaw of the Umatilla 
reservation, lived to be 114 years of age, having 
died on the reservation near Pendleton In 1902. 

She remembered having seen the Lewis and 
Clark expedition as it passed eastward up the 
Columbia river after having spent the winter 
near Astoria. She once related to Major Lee 
Moorhouse her remembrance of York, the col- 
ored servant who accompanied the Lewis and 
Clark expedition. She said that although she 
was but a girl of 12 or 13 at the time, she 
ventured to get Hose enough to the big black 



man to wet her finger tips and rub his skin 
to ascertain if It was real skin or Just a paint 
on the negro. Her wonder was excited when 
she found that It would not "rub off." 

She was reared in the vicinity of Pendleton. 
Umatilla, and Wallulu and was finally allotted 
i in Hi,' [Tm:itll!;i reserval Inn. where nhi' pussed 
the last year of her life. She was the last of 
the old Cayuse tribe to speak the pure Cayuse 
liinKuaRe. This limpid language was formerly 
one of the most widely spoken of any of the 
IndiHti l.'ineuages in 'he NorlhweRt. 




^Pe-tow-^a Cayuse rvoman who remembers 
Lewis and Clarl^. 




Sac-a-ja-we-a pointing out the Westward path to Captain Clark- 



Dr. Whirlwind. 



Dr. Whirlwind, or Shap-llsh, one of the most 
prominent and historic Indian characters In 
the West. Is now SI years old and is yet as 
straight as an arrow and shows his great age 
but slightly. 

He was born on the banks of the beautiful 
Umatilla river In 1S24, and when the Whitman 
massacre occurred in 1S47. was a young man 
of 23. He knew Dr. Whitman and when the 
news of the massacre reached the Umatilla 
river where Whirlwind lived, he was one of a 
party of friendly Indians to go to the mission 
and verify the truth ot the report of the mas- 
sacre. He remembers the awful scene which 
met the gaze of the friendly Indians as they 
ii ea red the burned mission. The murdered 
victims were scattered ahout the premises and 
the once prosperous and happy mission was in 

ruins*. 

Whirlwind says that It was not the Indians 
who Incited the murder of the Whitman party, 
and grows Indignant when he speaks of that 
tragedy. 

During the "Rheepeater" campaign In the 
Salmon river mountiiins of Idaho, In 1879. 



Whirlwind was chief of scouts for the United 
States government and was instrumental lit 

capturing that murderous band of renegade 
Indians. 

With 20 faithful Indian scouts. In which 
party were a number of still living Umatilla 
Indians. Including Peo. Cnptain Sum-kin. Tn- 
Inu-klakts, Seu-slps, To-kl-e-knn and Homily, 
accompanied by lieutenant Farrow and five 
white soldiers. Whirlwind went Into the almost 
Inaccessible mountains on Salmon river In 
Northern Idaho, and after a hnrd chase In 
which brilliant Indian strategy was used on his 
part, succeeded In capturing the entire force 
of the murderous "Sheepeatera" 

The "Sheepeaters" were renegade Snake 
river and Piute Indians which Infested the 
rugged mountains and raided the scattering 
settlements, murdering whites and stealing 
stock on every hand. White soldiers had Iried 
In vain to capture or dislodge the murderous 
band, but It was not until Whirlwind and his 
Umatilla scouts invaded the fastnesses that 
they were cnptured. 



tl 



Securing Indian Photographs 



Years of close friendship, association and 
confidence arc necessary to secure photographs 
from the Western Tndlan tribes. They are ex- 
tremely superstitious and strangers may spend 
weeks before getting a picture worth develop- 
ing. 

The women and children have an especially 
strong prejudice against the camera and It la 
not uncommon to see thf>m turn their backs 
upon the amateur photographer who goes 
among them snapping promiscuously. After 
close acquaintance they become more recon- 
ciled to It. but even then are usually more or 
less afraid of Its mysteries. 

On the reservation In their native surround- 
ings the Indians are stolid, taciturn, haughty 
and unyielding toward the stranger who goes 
among them with a photographic outfit. It Is 
well nigh Impossible to secure consent to pho- 
tograph an Indian unless the artist Is vouched 
for by some one In the confidence of the In- 
dian. 

And after you once have gained t'.ie entire 
confidence of the Indian and can secure a 
pose at your request, then the trouble has only 
actually begun. 

Although the Indian wears but few gar- 
ments, yet each must be In exact place, with- 
out a flaw, wrinkle, or crooked line. The hair 



must be arranged In the most fastidious man- 
ner, the moccasins must be Immaculate and 
the clothes "Just so." 

It requires at least three hours for an In- 
dian woman to prepare properly to have her 
picture taken. If n white woman used as long 
a time In proportion to the number of gar- 
ments worn. It would require a dny to properly 
array her for n pose. 

The Indians, both men and women, are ex- 
tremely vain and give much attention to their 
personal appearance when posing for n pic* 
ture. The women stain their faces more or less 
and put on all the gaudy beads, decorations, 
shining spangles and bright colors at theil 
command. 

The men bring out their newest blankets 
and comb and braid their hair with great care 
before submitting to a, pose. After an Indian 
0 ■ becomes infatuated with the idea of hav- 
ing his photograph taken, it becomes o mania. 
He then visits the studio of the photographer 

friend frequently and Is always willing and 
even anxious to pose. 

Such cases, however, are extremely rare. 
Most of the members of the various tribes 
shun the camera, and It Is only through the 
most tactful management that a natural, un- 
embarrassed pose can he secured. 



f 



The Mound on the Hilltop. 



Tn the coulee below me are half a dozen 
tepees. Here and there may be seen a squaw 
gathering firewood, while the men. vlvtd 
patches of color In their gaudy blankets, sit In 
front of their lodges smoking In dignified si- 
lence. Near at hand the ponies are grazing. 
On the crest of the hill are several small 
mounds. 

When I gain the crest of the hill I find the 
mounds to he graves. Here is a Utile mound. 
Upon It lies a few simple toys and a pair of 
tiny moccasins. Here some In d Inn mother 
has left her little one, part of her very life 
She has gore down from this hilltop leaving 
her baby here, hearing in her heart a wound 
that time may heal, but the scar of which will 
ever remnJn. Her little one that had scarcely 
heen out of her sight — to leave it on this lonely 
hilltop alonp! 

As she lays the little moccasin and clothing 
upon the grave as she puts the playthings 



there, what are her thoughts? Hei little OtlC 
will be lonesome in that far land In that great 
beyond. The spirit of these things thai h< 
knew ami loved here will go with him to serve 
him in the happy hunting grounds. Since he 
has gone she often looks at the western sklc 
when they are tinged with the glory of the 
dying cluv. Far In the West, bevond the sun- 
set, In that unknown land of the splrlls, l« 
her child. 

Her nrms are so empty — she stretches them 
out toward the mysterious West. Her ftyei 
are dim. her checks are wet. This little One 
was to have been a great warrior How proud 
she would have been of him! The red In the 
West fiuies to neutral tints of grey, The Wind 
arises as twilight falls, Far off she hears the 
long drawn mournful wall of a dog. She 
draws her blanket close about her and with 
bowed head she leaves the hilltop. Slowly 
darkness gathers and blots Out the rounded 
mounds.- — Fred Lockley. 



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Pendleton the Beautiful. 



I had heard ot Pendleton. I had seen pic- 
tures, wonderful pictures, all signed Lee Moor, 
house. Pendleton Oregon. I had been told — 
but never mind — I hnd not been told It was 
Pendleton the Beautiful. 

A resident of the city for many years ex- 
pressed surprise when I said. "Ptendleton Is 
beautiful." These lovely hills. You who have 
seen It for so long and to me It Is so new and 
wonderful. It Is September. 

From a point north of the city you look over 
hills of wondrous color. There are all shades 
of brown, amber and sold. Here and there :i 
stubble field of cold shading to hrown and 
tan, as though Mother Nature had tried a 
"Peroxide shower" here and there lust to try 
the effect. 

On these same hills a great discovery awaited 
me. Wnen I had heard of sagebrush T always 
thought of Mary MacLanc's "All gray sand and 
barrenness" of deserts where nothing grew. A 
withered barren shrub. F.TTT TT RLOOMS. 

Sagebrush blooms a cheerful, feathery, gold- 
fi) bloom. See this great bunch in a bed of 
ruoh and Band, water, not a drop near, and yet 



It blooms. If I only oOUld look away from the 
alluring hills I would have time to think of 
what It Is a symbol. "Like a lump of !<•<• In ih,- 
clear, cold moon." It Is symbolic, this shrub 
of "The gray sand and barrenness, " hearing It* 
cheerful, golden feathery bloom. 

Can one become so accustomed to the beau- 
ties of these hills that they cease to allure ' 
Then t'ike "The strangvr within your gates," 
If like Elizabeth's guest she have "No hod," 
until after a dinner which Includes ;i Mind '>( 
cabbage. Give them the dinner and the salad 
and take them up on the hills. Take them 
anyway. 

The climb, the wonderful air. the pause at 
the top where after a while you can almost 
hear pour "Soul growth." It Is solitude, yet 
the sweetest of •olltude. for the city Is so nenr. 
You are alone, yet there Is Mfe Just In-low yb.U 
throbbing up nuainst your own. 

Along the winding valley — a canon did you 
say? — (but T like valley so much better) It Is 
so green and fertile, and bright and "homey" 
and canon sounds like a deep, dark pass with 
great boulders sheltering a crowning Indian 



and bears and things. Do you see down below 
the bridge that cluster of tepees? 



While far up 
spirals of smoke 
fires. Crouching 
group a young 
waiting, waiting, 



papo 
then 
ponl< 



hill thin 
p from many council 
he central tepee of the 
woman sits stolidlv 

down the stream, and 
is hanging over ft pot 
play about with other 
I fishing Is good. See, 
great band of Indian 



Indian ponies Just 
Would you think 
thoughts?" Cross 
first street "Out to 
yond." Then eliml 
Autumn— n< Pendl 
sweep of the hills 
changing colors, th 



ridge and follow the 
W-est." "Out, out be- 
hlll. These glorious 
days. Look at the 
town, the river. the 
faint line of sky and snow. 



and you will think of Olive fichrlener who 



said. "It there were a wall of rock on the «dg« 
of the world and I could look far, far out Into 
space with the stars above me, I would not say 
anything, but the feeling would be a prayer." 

Go upon a frosty morning and watch the fog 
creep up and float away, dissolve disappear 
like some of our problems when we hove passed 
on up above them, only a mist. The fog caim> 
floating up from the river as I passed the old 
grave yard so T need must stop ami look about 
me, for Pip's convict among the leaning tomb 
stones. 

He was not there, nor — for I looked — wns 
the tomh stone on which read "Phillip Plrrlp. 
late of this Parish, and Oeorglnnn, bis wife." 
But T lingered long nenr the grave of "The 
little boy who died." 

A blot upon the street. Fay you? Oh. no; 
for ever we walk side by side with death. There 
are no gruves. only the ones we carry in our 
hearts. It is good to live these bright Novem- 
ber days in a city of beauty. Some ono is en- 
tertaining. I pass the guests along the street 
beautiful women, beautiful gowns, beautiful 
Pendleton. — Oenle June. 





Scene on Columbia Rioer, Umatilla Junction. 



I 



Umatilla County=01d and New 



It Is late October. The noonday sun still 
retains suggestions of Its mid-summer ardor 
but the mornings and evenings have a touch 
of the north — a hint of frost Is In the air. 
Perfect days are followed by no less perfect 
nights. 

Before the sun has disappeared behind the 
bare brown hills the full round moon looks 
palely from the eastern sky. The air Is hazy 
and In' the west the clouds are banked In 
heavy masses of beauty. With their ever- 
changing tints whlrh constantly merge and 
blend Into new color schemes they are fair as 
an artist's dream. Dusk does not follow twi- 
light; instead there comes a milder day — of 
moonlight and starlight. Here on these roll- 
ing hilly of Eastern Oregon the stars seem 
nearer and brighter than elsewhere. 

Pause for a moment on the summit .of this 



little knoll and look about you. In all ftlrtO- 
tfons may be seen the golden stubble or the 
rich brown of the newly-plowed earth. No 
need to turn to the musty pages of your hlH- 
torlos to read of the "Field of the Cloth of 
Qold" that famouB meeting place of the French 
and English kings for here before you. mile 
on mile, townrd the far horizon stretched n 
limitless field of gold. Not only Is the high 
wheat stubble golden In Its autumn dress, but 
to the farmer It has yielded a rich irtoro of 
gold, for these fertile fields are well termed 
"golden acres." 

Turn your gaze southward. Scattered across 
the well-worked field are sa-cks of grain. Th^y 
look like soldiers lying where they fell as they 
charged across the plowed ground. A seeder Is 
making tvilf-mile trips back and forth across 
the field, leaving In Its wake long rows of 



I 



mathematically straight lines where It has de- 
posited the wheat. Here It will lie awaiting 
the vivifying, life-giving touch of Nature's 
kindly forces* — the sun and the rain, the fronts 
and the thaws. 

Here and there Is a field of Tall-sown grain 
already showing a touch of vivid emerald 
against the rich brown earth. Ere long It will 
settle down for Its long sleep of winter, pro- 
tected by its coat of eiderdown. Its snowy 
mantle. Next May will see the tiny shoots 
knee high, full Of ripening beauty before the 
breezes of spring. But now, one must plant In 
faith and In faith see the heavy-headed grain 
of the summer to come. Now Nature Is at 
rest. After a season of growth and fruition, 
after a bountiful harvest Nature has paused 
hefore her Winter trance. She sits in the 
gloaming with folded hands after the heat and 



stress of her summer day's work. Sho Is 
basking In the mellow heuuty of a calm and 
restful Indian Summer. Thistle down and 
milk weed seed drift by toward unknown har- 
bors. From every gatepost stream the tiny 
cables of the busy spiders. The sheen and 
shimmer of silver Is seen where the sunshine 
flints on the Interlacing thromls thai run from 
weed to weed. The thick-standing stubble is 
agleam with the filmy gossamer lace-work. 
Here by tin- stream one may see Nature's an- 
nual miracle. Here Nature, the greatest and 
most undent of alchemists, has transmuted the 
green of the leaf Into gold or crimson. Moses 

saw the burning bush aflame yei unconiumed. 

Here we see the miracle reproduced a thousand 
fold. 

Against ti>e gray trunks and yellow leaves of 
the pnplnr. the sumacs flnme a vivid crimson 



1 



Q 




Sins of the T^eJman, 



ablaze with color yet unconsumed. The haw 
and chokecherry are clad In Highland platd. 
Against their many-hued coaU the purple clus- 
ters of the elderberry stand out. sharply. Here 
on the grassy banks of the Umatilla are a 
group of smoke-stained tepees, from which the 
smoke Is curling up. By yonder spring 
Whirlwind was born four score years ago. long 
before the first wagon crenked Its way across 
the unknown desert to the shores of the western 
sea. The Tndlans are here yet. picturesque, 
dignified, hut the old regime has passed away. 

The French Canadian trapper and his bat- 
teau are both dust. The Hudson Bay trader 
:md his buckskln-clad men have taken the long 
trail, f'e one-way trail whose travelers return 
no more. The war path and the buffalo arc 



hoih but a nu-mory. About the lodge fire the 
< hief dreams of the departed glory of his tribe, 
tils lodge fir. (Sled down to emhers. Soon he 
loo will go over the divide to the happy bunt- 
ing erounilp in the land of tile departed. 
Where Pen ruled the council of his braves the 
school house of the paleface stands. Where 
I he beaver built hti» d»m now gleam* thfi 
pumpkin among the shocked corn. Here as 
of old the magpies un- chattering In the patch 
of saivls herry bushes. A bob white skurrles 
to shelter beneat - the hrush. The red apples 
are gleaming redly from their carpet of 
orchard grnss. the amber liquid flows from the 
cider press, the hlsr bronze turkeys are strut- 
ting In the barnyard. Plenty and prosperity 
reign In old Umatilla. — Fred T-oekley. 




IVo-ho-pum and papoose. 



KC 1 0. 5 




Young Chief of the Umalillu. 



JAN 3 i906 



Doees bros. 

LIORAHT BINDING 

ST. AUGUSTINE , 



